


Where Poor Life Choices and Hentai Have Led Us

by LordJixis



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Driving, M/M, Really bad seriously dont be like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordJixis/pseuds/LordJixis
Summary: Yuuri's just trying to be a good designated driver.





	Where Poor Life Choices and Hentai Have Led Us

Yuuri was, above all: responsible.

Or maybe, he amends as Mila's glittering, purple heel kicks his hand while she attempts to crawl into the front seat; Yuuri was above all: caring. Phichit starts crying and pawing for Yuuri's hand as Mila wedges herself half in the footwell and half in the space between Phichit and the door. Phichit continues his drama by stroking Yuuri's newly bruised hand and murmuring Thai at it, fumbling with his phone with the other hand until a flash indicates a shaky selfie had been taken. The light blinds Yuuri, an unfortunate occurrence when you're in charge of a hollow hunk of metal speeding down asphalt at 70 mph, but he just laughs it off.

Maybe, above all, Yuuri was tolerant.

“WOW!” It's somehow louder than all the other voices, or maybe it just stands out the most because he's been trained to listen for that voice ever since he was eight and Victor had been the most beautiful thing in the whole school, in the whole town, in the whole  _world._

Maybe, above all, Yuuri was a lovestruck fool.

Victor is then attempting to  _also_ crawl into the front seat, though he does a much better job at not injuring the driver. At least, not physically.

Looking down at dreamy blue eyes, Yuuri felt very injured.

He hadn't actually managed to get into the front seat (Now occupied by both Mila and Phichit, which meant Yuuri was entirely grateful Victor hadn't managed to add himself to the mix.) but he had managed to partially overcome the center console, which meant his head was planted in between the gearshift and Yuuri's leg.

It didn't look comfortable in any respect.

Victor seemed to think otherwise, nuzzling into Yuuri's thigh and sighing dreamily, and, well. Yuuri's eyes were huge as he looked over to his copilot for help. His hopes were dashed as soon as Phichit's wild smile came into view, and he regretted even bringing his friends attention to the situation.

Victor's weight was incessant at his thigh as he turned his attention back to the road, the freeway flashing by in his headlights. Another flash, this one in the car, has him looking back. Another selfie had just been taken, and by the way Phichit was smiling, it had him and Victor in it.

He glances down at Victor, his face squished up against his thigh, and tries not to get stuck on the long lashes brushing his cheeks, the way his lips were slightly open. A picture with that in it... might be alright. As long as he has the only copy.

He can negotiate with Phichit later.

He's brought back to reality with a knee to the head, jerking forward but luckily keeping the car in the right lane. He glances in the rear view to see that Sara had pulled Mila back, whispering in her ear. They fix each other with a look and Yuuri turns back to the road, determined to not crash. But then, tinkling jewelry lets him know Mila's moving again, and he glances over to see her whispering in Phichit's ear.

That could really only mean bad things, but there was tragically little he could do about it while driving.

Yuuri was adamant about ignoring Victor's weight on his leg, but when he curls in more, pushing his head up Yuuri's thigh and onto his lap... well, it became a significantly harder task.

“Yuuri!” Phichit yells, which was entirely unnecessary considering he was at most, two feet from him.

Because Phichit is his best friend and essentially harmless, he replies quietly without a hint of malice. “Yes?”

“So, at the start of this, we were gonna have Victor dropped off first, because he's obviously too drunk to function.” Phichit leads with. Yuuri, before that moment, would've made the argument that they were  _all_  too drunk to function, but Phichit sounds stone cold sober as he continues to explain. “We were entrusted with him, so it's our duty to make sure he returns home safely!”

Yuuri takes back the stone-cold sober comment as Phichit enters a monologue about honor, helping others, and chivalry. He glances at Victor, because there was no reasonable way not to, and immediately feels dirty as his pure face comes into view. Stubbornly, he directs his gaze at the highway and remembers what Christophe had explained to him, in the low purring voice that was his trademark. “He'd promised he wouldn't get drunk, since he drove himself here, but, well. He's Russian, alcohol practically runs in his veins.” Yuuri smiles at the stereotype, then that smile slowly faded from his face as Chris explained with batting eyelashes that their Uber didn't have enough room, and they didn't know anyone else in this club, and if Yuuri had enough room, could he please drive Victor home?

And then, because life hates Yuuri with the sort of force it generally reserves for natural disasters, Victor's arms were around him and he was talking about how fun the car ride would be, about how he knew Yuuri was an amazing driver, about how he was so happy to be drunk.

And. Well. Yuuri had indeed had room, so Victor's sleek Audi was parked overnight at a bar while Yuuri's friends and a local celebrity he'd had a crush on since... Since forever, really, piled into his 2005 Honda Civic.

It ran, and had for quite a while. It was a nondescript gray and the interior had only two suspicious stains, this was easily forgiven once you plopped into the cozy seats. Yuuri couldn't ask for a better car. But he couldn't help but feel inadequate as Victor had slid into it, his ethereal beauty so vastly different from the mundane comfort.

A hand on his shoulder has him turning to Phichit, who seems to have exited his monologue and was actually getting to the point. “So, basically, it would be a lot easier to drop him off last.”

Yuuri had missed his explanation as to  _why_ , but it wasn't really hard to figure out. He'd be running in circles dropping everyone off if he did Victor first, so it really just made sense.

He gulped as he was nuzzled, literally  _nuzzled_ into.

Actually, he amends, what would make sense is never being within 30 feet of Victor again. It was almost physically painful, the depth of affection he had for this man, and he was sure that being alone with him when he was so intoxicated and overly affectionate would hurt him in ways he'd never imagined.

A glance at Phichit shows he's thought about the same thing, though perhaps through a different lens.

“Phichit... I don't... Don't think that's a good idea.”

He's grinning wildly, teeth a dentist would be prove of shining at Yuuri. “It's actually the best idea!” He argues easily, which was really not enough to convince Yuuri of his argument. “See, okay, just take this exit...”

In a move that no driving instructor would approve of, Phichit twists the steering wheel, sending his poor car careening out of an exit a second too late. It's not a fatal move, but the car shakes over the rumble strips, and all the occupants, including the stupidly pretty one resting on his thigh, are jostled.

“Whaa?” Comes Victor's confused voice, and because Phichit is some sort of spawn between cupid and Satan, he replies:

“Oh, we just changed our course, Yuuri's dropping everyone else off first because you two are both on the other side of town, so it just makes sense.”

For one hopeful second, Yuuri thinks Victor is too drunk to understand. Then; “Yay! Wonderful!” His mouth is curled in a perfect heart, and his bright eyes are staring so piercingly at Yuuri even in the dark....

And Yuuri is driving. And he should really, really be focusing on driving.

“Right here.” Phichit's voice is soft; he knows Yuuri, knows that loud noises make him scurry away. But the soft, “Left, now.” Is easy to follow, easy to give himself over to. “Here, this driveway. On the left there, with the red car. Great.”

He blossoms under praise, but all he can feel is dread as Sara and Mila walk up the driveway to their house, silent until they're safely inside. “This is a bad idea, Phichit.”

“Yuuriiii...” His eyes were sharp, for all that his croon sounded drunk.

“Yuuriiii...” Echoes a voice from Yuuri's lap, and his face is flaming.

“Yes?” He says as a catch all, ducking farther away from the porch light shining into the car to hide his blush.

“Please?” Phichit is the only one to answer, in a whisper. Victor simply smiles against his thigh and seemingly falls back asleep. “You never put yourself out there. You're not going to embarrasses yourself - “ At this, Yuuri lets out a little snort. “And I think you might even impress him. This is a chance Yuuri, and you don't know if you'll ever have another. You can't just miss out on the love of your life because you were too afraid to talk to him.”

At this, Yuuri snorts louder, because he can and he will.

Maybe.

Because Phichit is making the eyes at him, the pleading, watery ones, and Yuuri is a sucker for most things, that included.

“Alright. He won't even remember this tomorrow though, you know?” He says as he shifts the car into drive, pulling out.

“Well, even better!” Yuuri shoots him a glare, fierce even in the darkness, “No no no, not like _that_ you pervert. I know you aren't going to take advantage of him.” Yuuri, to the credit of this statement, chokes on his own spit as the words wash over him. “But that means you can be embarrassing and weird and he won't even know tomorrow!”

Phichit was right, as he generally was. But. That didn't mean it was a good idea.

Yuuri was going to do it anyway. Because Phichit was right (there's a theme, there), he never took chances, never spoke up, lacked the initiative he truly needed in life. And, maybe it was time for that to change.

So, he drove Phicht to his apartment. His best friend screeched to the music, pounded his fist in the air, talked excitedly about this and that and everything imaginable. Yuuri envied Phichit, in a distant way where he wanted that kind of life, the presence Phichit carried so effortlessly around him. The way it always seemed like he was having a good time, the way it always seemed like he wouldn't mind if you joined.

He'd never feel the deep seated jealously towards him that could cause a rift between them, but Yuuri envied lots of things and it made sense that his best friend was one of them.

And then they were at his house.  
  


“Thanks, Yuuri!” Phichit gushes as he leans over to give Yuuri a one-armed hug, somewhat smothering Victor in the process. His blue eyes were open when Phichit pulled back, glancing around the car like he was in a fugue state. “Bye Victor!” Phichit tacks on, seeing that he was awake; he then winks, in the sparkly way that only Phichit could. Victor returns it with a much sloppier wink, but this was the one that sent Yuuri's heart into space. It wasn't even _directed_ at him.

“Byyyeee!” He croons from his spot on Yuuri's leg, shifting around to get comfortable.

Yuuri gives one last panicked look to Phichit, who graces him with a, “Good luck. I know you won't need it.”

And then he was gone, door closed, back turned.

And Yuuri was alone in his shitty car with Victor half on him.

“Ah..” Yuuri starts, then pauses. “Erm,” He tries again, and doesn't allow himself to lose steam this time. He's sure he'll regret this, but the way Victor's laying looks uncomfortable at best. ”Victor, the front seat is open, if you want it.”

His eyes shift open, but only barely. The bright blue hidden behind silver looks a lot like bedroom eyes, a lot like a lot of things Yuuri wants.

“WOW!”

That breaks him out of that right quick, and then Victor is scrambling into shotgun, thankfully not kicking him.

“I love being driven around, wow, this is so cool!” Victor immediately gushes, rolling down his window and sticking his head out. His next words are muffled, due to the fact that his head is outside the car, but Yuuri has a feeling he wasn't really expecting a response.

Yuuri is glad Chris had the foresight to input Victor's address into his phone ahead of time, because it didn't look like Victor was going to be all that useful. Or, you know, useful at all.

But, well. If the phrase was “sit there and look pretty”, then Victor was going above and beyond in his role, because he looked ephemeral. Exquisite. Delectable.

A ton of other adjectives that Yuuri really, actually did not need to be thinking about right now.

He sets Maps to Victor's address, waits as it guides him to the filthy rich part of town.

“Victor, uh.” He pops back in the car immediately, blinks bright eyes at Yuuri. They're so blue Yuuri wouldn't believe it if he wasn't seeing it, if they weren't staring right back at him. He had no metaphors for how lovely they shone, because nothing else could compare. The stars were dull, the sun simply an afterthought in the wake of such a sparkling, crystalline blue.

“Yes, Yuuriii?” Victor croons his name, and he remembers he had been trying to say... something.

Oh god. Oh god, what had he been trying to say? “You need to put your seat belt on.” Oh god, why had he said that?! Now Victor was going to think he was lame, and a nanny, and...

“Oh, thank you Yuuri! I almost forgot.” He's smiling, mouth curved into a heart shape, and Yuuri...

Is broken, probably. Because all he can think about is that mouth, how cute the heart shape is, how cute Victor is –

and how he should be driving.

His hands feel too thick and clumsy as he shifts in into drive. Desperation to get Victor home and forget all about this stupid infatuation flows through him.

There's a possibility he drives more aggressively than he ever had in his life, but Victor doesn't seem to mind. His head is alternatively shoved out the window or far too close to Yuuri's face; either way he was rambling on and on about his dog, and the city lights, and how Yuuri was such a nice person and how he was so happy to be here. It's stupidly endearing, all his lighthearted chatter, and Yuuri is even starting to relax when - “OH MY GOD, YUUURRII!” Panic fills the driver, because people screaming while you were piloting a chunk of metal at 75mph generally does a lot for the sympathetic nervous system, and right as he's about to scream right back ( _are you okay?!_ was the first thing he thought of, which may or may not say something.) Victor continues, “CAN WE GET MCDONALDS??”

Yuuri feels like he might cry. Or laugh. He settles for a huff that's maybe somewhere in the middle, and pulls off the freeway where he knows a symbol of America resides. Victor is gushing, cooing, and generally doing awful things with his vocal chords, but they make it to the drive through anyways. He asks the lady to please give him a moment, and then he's trying to decide if he wants anything.

“- and then, he was telling me that cats are superior. Can you believe that?! Cats are cute and all, but _dogs_ , man. It was so weird, almost as weird as how much I've been watching hentai lately.” Yuuri chokes on air at that, but Victor doesn't even seem to notice as he steamrolls right over Yuuri's poor feelings. “It's been crazy, like normally it's maybe a third of the porn I watch, but I don't know if I've seen actual humans fucking in like – _weeks_?”

Yuuri's mouth is hanging open, and he's curled as far into the corner of his chair as he possibly could be. This conversation wasn't happening. Victor Nikiforov is not talking to him about hentai in a McDonalds drive through. He was having a weird fever dream, obviously. Maybe he was dying. Yeah, dying. That sounded.. preferable.

A moment passes. Then, another. His life doesn't end and Victor doesn't stop talking (about hentai?? Boku no Pokemon or something?) He turns his wide eyes at the speaker, looking for help, maybe, or at least someone to tell him that he was right to be taken aback. Maybe someone to assure him that he actually was dying and wouldn't have to endure this any longer. It crackles at him, and he feels judged.

“Ah, Victor?” He immediately stops his tirade on the merits of – something awful, jiggle physics or giggles or tv tropes – and looks at Yuuri with his wide, bright eyes. “Do you, uh, know what you want?”

“Ah!” He taps his pointer finger against his lips, because of course he had to bring attention to his perfectly rounded, delectable, beautiful - “Nope!” He finishes brightly, and Yuuri thanks whatever gods are listening that his train of thought was broken.

“Er, alright.” He says, but he seems to have done his job and Victor is now actually looking at the menu, at least.

“I'll have a happy meal! With chocolate milk, please.”

Yuuri has broke.

Come back later.

First of all – adorable. Completely and utterly adorable. Victor Nikiforov just ordered a happy meal. With – with _chocolate milk._

Second of all – it seems both morally and for-the-sake-of-Yuuri's-continued-existence-ly wrong to go from hentai to chocolate milk so fast. He can't keep up. His emotions are rolling over each other, an ocean of what-the-fuck.

Victor, he realizes, is staring at him. Yuuri's mouth, he realizes, is flopping around like he's a fish drowning on air.

“Sure?” It probably wasn't supposed to be a question, but Yuuri is currently questioning a lot.

Victor continues to stare at him as he pieces himself together enough to order. “Uh, can I have a... a Happy Meal? With, um – chocolate milk?” The lady confirms this, and asks if he wants anything else. “Er, a burger? And, like, fries?” After being prompted on which burger he just goes, “Whichever. A cheap one.”

The lady rattles off something that sounds like food, at least, and he hastily agrees to buying whatever it is. Then she's telling him to pull up to the window and Victor is smiling and everything is so, so confusing.

He manages to make it to the window without any small catastrophes, and while he pulled up a bit far from it, the rest of the transaction went smoothly. Or, well, as smoothly as it could go when Victor is climbing on top of him to get at his food first, proclaiming the whole way about how excited he was for chocolate milk and that Yuuri was just so soft and perfect to climb on (This made Yuuri into a vegetable, basically, so Victor continued to climb over his limp body with no resistance.).

When, finally, all the food is safely in the car and Victor is back in his own seat, slurping down a chocolate milk with gusto, Yuuri asks, “Home, now?” He doesn't really understand what he wants the answer to be, maybe something like, _no, I want to just keep driving around with you and getting fast food until our arteries clog_ or _Why don't we just stay here and chat?_ Or, maybe, _I want you to take me right here right now._

Ahem. It doesn't matter what Yuuri wants (as usual), because Victor answers with cheeks puffed out with food, a resounding, “Mmhm!” Accompanied with the curved, wide smile that Yuuri might as well pray to, with how much he worships it.

when he reaches a gate, he almost chokes; because no matter how much sense it makes that Victor lives in a gated community, getting the actual proof was... Scary, really. Victor was so stupidly out of his league that Yuuri feels guilty for even dreaming.

“Erm, Victor, do you remember the code?” Yuuri asks, hopeful, because if he's too drunk to, then Yuuri will have to figure out what to do, and he's never been any good at that.

Victor smiles and taps a finger to his mouth, a gesture that makes Yuuri short out. When he comes to, Victor's fingers are on his chin and his mouth is precariously close to Yuuri's ear, breath hot and tantalizing. For a long, hanging second, Yuuri thinks he's about to lick his ear and Yuuri will ascend to the heavens, but he just whispers, “It's very confidential,” He purrs the very, making it sound much more seductive than such an innocuous word has any right to be. His mind is already churning out a metaphor involving the word 'very' and Yuuri's being, but then Victor's mouth is working again, and Yuuri doesn't really process what it means when he says, “1.” Yuuri shudders as Victor breathes in, has to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. “2.” It drops from his lips like honey, like a perfect, golden, drop. Yuuri could imagine licking it up, tasting all the sweetness from Victors lips, and - “3.” Yuuri holds his breath, and simply waits, “4.”

Then Victor is pulling away, and Yuuri is staring after him, no doubt looking more than a little lost and hopefully not as horny as he felt. It takes a second for what Victor said and why he said it to process, and before his brain can actually tell Yuuri what to do, he's laughing. “Are all rich people this ridiculous?” He asks, and immediately regrets, but Victor just looks gleeful.

“Of course!” He practically yells, and Yuuri is reminded that he's drunk, through and through. Then he's leaning closer this time - and oh god, not this again – but he stops in front of Yuuri's face (Far too close, but at least not _breathing_ on him.) and says in a low, conspiratorial voice, “The money rots your brain.”

Yuuri doubts that, honestly, because Victor is a known genius.

But then he's looking at Yuuri expectantly and Yuuri suddenly remembers what the numbers are for.

And starts laughing again, of course.

He punches them in and watches the gate swing open slowly, amazed and surprised all at once. Rich people really _were_ that ridiculous.

Victor directs him down street after street of mansions that loom ominously, until he's finally directed to stop at a McMansion that has a pink Cadillac parked in front, which only affirms his realization that rich people were ridiculous.

He carefully pulls up by it, leaving far more space than is probably really necessary, but he has a chicken sandwich and about three dollars to his name at the moment, and he thinks a scratch on that Cadillac would cost much, much more than that.

Victor doesn't seem to give the slightest shit about it though, because when he loses his footing and stumbles back, he just allows himself to fall right into it's open cab. Yuuri's there without realizing his feet moved, and the sight of Victor, splayed across white leather with glossy eyes and pink lips, is enough to make him into a tomato. Figuratively, of course, because he's blushing so hard you could probably see it from Neptune, but he wouldn't argue being turned into a literal tomato at this point.

He doesn't realize there's a plushie of a dog in the car until Victor is snuggling it, his hair curling against the fake dog's; and Yuuri completely and totally does not think about how Victor's hair would look tangled with his own (Probably delightful, though).

He's so busy thinking about not thinking about that that he doesn't realize Victor's fallen asleep. In his car. That has no roof. So anyone could come, and do... _anything_.

Which means Yuuri has to get him inside, somehow.

“Erm, Victor...” He tries, and gets absolutely no response. “Victor?” He tries again, a little louder, but that also doesn't work. He reaches out a shaky hand, but stops it before he reaches Victor. He didn't want him thinking he was a creep, touching him while he slept... but it was normal to shake someone awake, right? And Victor certainly hadn't shied away from physical contact, so... His hand continues grabbing at Victor's shoulder. Victor actually stirs this time, a little mumbled string of consonants. Then, he stills again. “Victor, please.” No response. “Victor, _please_?” Nothing. “Victor! You gotta go inside.”

He hums, a low noise that seems to replace Yuuri's bones for a second. “Why? It's comfy here.” Yuuri is relieved that he got a response, but when the actual meaning of that response sinks in, he can't help but sigh. Victor's made him feel many things before, (embarrassment at being alive, embarrassment at being near him, embarrassment about all of Yuuri's meager possessions, and of course, the blinding, ravenous type of horny that's made him spend entire nights moaning into his pillow.) but exasperated had never been one of them.

“Victoorr,” Yuuri wishes he could ignore the way he _whined_ Victor's name, but it bounces around his skull like a particularly harmful projectile. Victor just curls tighter around the stuffed dog.

Fuck.

Yuuri's got to think of something that could coax him in, but nothing comes to mind. “Victor?” A moment passes before said man responds, a low hum that didn't necessarily mean _anything._ “Erm, your bed's inside?” He tries, but knows it won't be enough before the words leave his mouth. Like he thought, it doesn't even stir Victor.

Yuuri didn't know what to do. He staunchly was not considering the option of carrying Victor in, not least because it was a _bad_ option. But... he also wasn't really considering anything else, because he couldn't think of anything else to consider.

What did Victor like??

Yuuri's face is shoved in his hands, eyes scrunched tight, when he gets it. “Dog!” He yells, and is only a little surprised when it actually makes Victor stir. “Victor, your dog's inside!” His eyes open, and he's the exemplification of a precious sleepyhead when they squint at him.

“Dog..?” He sounds confused. Yuuri does not _squee_ , no matter how bad he wants to.

“Yeah, your dog is waiting for you inside!” Victor's sleepy eyes travel over to the plushie he's still aggressively cuddling, before they turn back to Yuuri, confused. “Your _real_ dog.” Yuuri clarifies.

He squeezes the fake dog, before seeming to come to. “My..dog?” He blinks, once, twice, “Oh MY GOD, MY DOG!” He squeals, falling out of the car and grabbing Yuuri as he hurtles to the door. Yuuri stumbles after, and doesn't even realize till he's thrown through the door that he's entering _Victor Nikiforov's_ house.

He stumbles in, and immediately falls, because he's Yuuri and he just sucks. He didn't suck so much that he tripped over his own two feet, but tripping over Victor's dog is hardly better, especially when Yuuri starts drowning in it's apology slobber.

Luckily, Victor doesn't seem bothered by how clumsy Yuuri is. He's burying his face in the dog's fur, and cooing little noises at it. Yuuri thinks he might be crying. He keeps exclaiming things like _ohmygod I have a DOG_ and _wow! You're the most beautiful thing_ (Which Yuuri does not even consider pretending is directed at him.)Yuuri recovers enough to hear “Makkachin!”, which he decides is the dog's name, because it's the only thing that really makes sense.

Victor stops his cuddling long enough to let out the longest, cutest yawn Yuuri has ever heard, after which he blinks sleepy eyes at Yuuri. “Victor? Would you like to go to bed?” He asks, then immediately blushes. There's no way he'd take that wrong, right? Probably not, but...

“Yuuri!” Victor squeal, which Yuuri is starting to think is just how he communicates. “I would love to, c'mon!” And then Yuuri is being dragged through a house bigger than the local Walmart, Makkachin bounding around his ankles precariously. Victor practically throws him in a room, slamming the door shut behind him. He literally belly flops onto a bed Yuuri is sure is worth more than all his possessions. He actually bounces on it before it settles, but then Makkachin is climbing up and it's jiggling all over the place and Victor is laughing and looking at him with so much happiness.

  
  


Yuuri takes a breath. A deep one.

And he looks at this scene, takes in every corner of his room, the subtle curve in his mouth. How shiny Makkachin's fur is, how plush the pillows look. He takes all of this, the moonlight shining in the huge windows, the way it gleams in Victor's silver hair. He takes it, and he saves it.

Because right now, he can almost pretend. It's the closest he'll ever be to his dreams, the closest he'll ever be to having Victor. Right here, right now, Yuuri can pretend Victor's sitting there, waiting for him to come to bed.

He takes another breath. A deeper one.

“Goodnight, Victor.” He turns away, and doesn't see Victor's face fall. The door is unimaginably heavy, but he pushes it open anyway. He takes a step, then-

“Wait!” He resolutely does not cry as he turns back to Victor, but the face he's making doesn't help. He just sits, and waits for whatever tantalizing shred of anything Victor's going to dangle in front of him. “Um...” Victor looks down, sad eyes finding Makkachin. The dog snuggles against his face. “You could... Stay?” His blue eyes are locked on Yuuri's now, so fierce, like a flood. Yuuri's being carried away. He's drowning, dying, and Victor... Is holding out his arms for him, warm, inviting.

“Is that... okay? You're drunk and..”

“Of course it's okay! I'm sober enough to decide I want to cuddle with the cute boy who brought me home. Cuddles can't hurt anyone!” Yuuri's brain gets stuck on cuddle, and while he's trying to piece that out, his feet move for him.

He's by the side of the bed by the time his brain finds the word 'cute' in all that, and being Yuuri, he goes, “You think I'm cute?” And then blushes with the force of 1,000 suns.

Victor looks at him like he's said, 'You think I'm real?'. “Yes, of course!” His voice is gleeful in the dark room, and Yuuri wonders how he can cycle through emotions so easily. “You're entirely adorable!”

“Move.” He says it soft, but Victor responds like he'd screamed it, shuffling over and pulling up the blanket for him. Yuuri slides in, sighs. Victor touches his shoulder, but hesitates.

“Can I?” He doesn't wait after Yuuri hums yes, curling around him like a particularly affectionate octopus. Yuuri responds, his body shifting and wrapping around Victor's until they were one warm human pretzel, with Makkachin laying over their feet. Black and silver mix by Yuuri's head, and he can't help but think it looked just as delightful as he thought it would.

“Goodnight, Yuuri.” His name sounds exquisite, coming from Victor.

“Goodnight, Victor.” He says, and he doesn't even sound sad.

As he listens to Victor's breaths even out, he can't help but think that Victor was wrong. Cuddles could definitely hurt him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a review, if you would? I appreciate them v much  
> A lot of this is based off real life, all I can say about that is: don't be like me


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